Detonate
by Zaedah
Summary: She’s approaching the cliff and he begs to follow her down.
1. Detonate

_Wishing a bountiful Thanksgiving to all. Consider this a slice of Tiva pie for your consumption!_

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**Detonate**

The sweep of his lips wakes her from a dream which featured that very mouth. Floating along her thigh in a brushstroke arc, he excavates the ruins of her nocturnal fantasy and presses divine reality into her skin. Denying her eyes the right to feast, she lets his extravagant manipulations filter through other senses. Touch, a gentle if insistent gift, is a personal favorite.

She was trained for aggression and he for observation, the complimentary skills clashing in the night. The hallowed light of morning shines on role reversal; he the predator stalking a willing prey. Extending her nerve endings to the surface of heated skin to capture each sweet movement, every deliberate stroke, she gasps at what she refuses to witness.

Visual deprivation with the promise of overload.

What he's building works to tear her down, angling her sharper edges into softer alignment until they can inflict no damage. Thorough hands shape her core into compliance, tossing away resistance. He puts aside his inherent playfulness to focus on the task of unraveling the sturdy woman, his concentration summoned to the detriment of hers.

The spaces narrow until oneness is achieved.

He is an unyielding instrument above her, forcing her to submit to his dominance. Yet even in vulnerability, she is a device of destruction, lethal should her wire be tripped. As his decadent attentions arrive at a swifter pace, he comes dangerously close to triggering her detonation. The torturous ticking echoes in her ears as taut muscles grip at his, transfixed by the compression and flex of his body.

Golden shafts prick at her eyelids and she aches to give in. Because she knows he's there, can reach him with all the senses she hasn't forbidden. Daylight hides nothing and when she finally heeds the begging of her eyes, the view makes her a casualty. He's ready to fall but she leaps first.

A victim of calculated ignition.

Later, when he holds her as the precious pearl she knows she's not, breath is slowly uncovered among the debris of what their love can do. They'll have to clear the rubble soon. Driven to secrecy by judgment's purgatory, they are thieves scaling the walls that protocol constructs; his need is her handhold, her vows are his.

The day will progress without them, she announces to the strengthening sun. The curtains are pulled to deny entrance to the world that scorns partners who dare apply the term to every aspect of life. In the dimmed light, her eyes are given freedom to roam. He doesn't mind, too busy soothing the edges of the explosion.

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_**If you found this tiny nugget satisfying, feel free to inform the starving author...**  
_


	2. Implode

_Thank you kindly for returning for chapter two. Tony's POV..._

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**Detonate**

**2**

Her face in sleep wrings tears from angels. Its present perfection is too holy to taint so he sinks lower, whispering touches while watching her mouth curve in unconscious response. Perhaps she dreams of him. Lapping at her skin as though able to taste the answer, he needs her to wake soon lest he take without permission. His fingers drip purpose onto her canvas in every shade he possesses.

The sun stirs before she does, chasing the dark from his impatient path. Through a borrowed window in an impersonal room the light reaches across the bed to tangle in her hair. Teasing the tender spots, he notes that she has abandoned the world of dreams for a reality where addictive gasps are hindered by stubborn lips. Her closed eyes hide all he wants to see and this ignites the predator within him.

Her blindness is his weapon.

She is a sword of many edges, sharp sides ready to strike but not here. Here she is recast by his fire, melted down into base components and reshaped until she forfeits. He wants cooperation more than submission but her refusal to see him brings a resoluteness that will be their undoing. Because if she's envisioning someone else in this moment, he'll rip through their existence.

A breath drawn in anger and he's inside.

He uses her game against her, robbing her of control through the exertion of his. The sun blinks and turns away, condemning the intent of this deliberate claiming. But where she will not look she sends a word offering, pleadings punctuated by his name like the partaking of a sacrament. It is a sound of reverence that fuels his pace. Slender hands fasten to his back, as though preventing his penchant for escape.

Morning trumpets around them, guarding the treaty they are writing in sweat and promises. She's approaching the cliff and he begs to follow her down. And when she opens her eyes, he finally understands that she'd been using the other senses to learn him. She is unmasked and he is shattered.

Their implosion reduces doubt to cinders.

After, the atmosphere lifts and they are left holding on in zero gravity. He would renounce his soul to preserve this completeness. There is no letting go, only forging on under the weight of a lie he'd vowed to never live again. But the loss of truth has gained her and the trade has its merits.

Tugging on shielding fabric, he plunges the room into shadows again. No light is needed when the senses attest to her presence. Her eyes remain open, drinking in all that he willingly shows her while his hands piece her back together. They will leave this place separately, but determinedly whole.


End file.
